


The Gray Stuff: one shots from Beauty and the Boss

by Bugaboos



Series: Beauty and the Boss [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:59:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugaboos/pseuds/Bugaboos
Summary: A collection of one shots based in the world of my last fic, Beauty and the Boss.





	1. Big Bad Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> You get it? Because "Try the gray stuff, it's delicious?" It was... in the movie? Listen, I think I'm funny. 
> 
> Ok, hopefully this doesn't get too long, but knowing me, it probably will, huh? 
> 
> But hey! Here we are. Alright. So. This is gonna be exactly what the title and summary say it is. 
> 
> I told myself not to start another multichapter anything because I kinda tend to sink a lot of time into them, and I have some of my original stuff I want to start working on. Plus I didn't feel quite done with this world yet, and I had enough ideas for small stories within it that I was like, well, why not some one shots. 
> 
> So this will be things like:  
> -Liam's story with a previous visitor to the mansion  
> -More Guzma/Reader stuff that takes place between chapters of Beauty and the Boss and maybe some after curse is broken  
> -Team Skull's past and events leading up to being cursed  
> -Dealing with the curse early on  
> -Any other visitors to Po Town during the curse  
> -Stuff about Liam and Ethan  
> -Plumeria's backstory  
> -How Guzma changes because of the curse  
> -Times when grunts have tried to leave
> 
> And I'm always willing to listen to suggestions if there's anything someone wants to see explored. Find me on Tumblr as Bugaboozma, which is my Guzma side blog. 
> 
> All things unrated until proven smut, yeah? Well that's what this'll be anyway. Tags will be added as stories are added. 
> 
> I guess I'll use that "this work is part of a series" thing? Though I've never used it before and I hardly see it used but I suppose that's what this is. 
> 
> Each chapter is going to be a complete story on it's own, and not chronological. I'll specify where it falls in the notes though. I dunno, I figured posting this as one work, even if each chapter is its own thing, was better then posting a bunch since it's all sorta related? 
> 
> I'll make this first one Guzma/Reader since I figure that's what most people are here for? You tell me. I'm probably most excited about writing stuff about Liam as well as Team Skull's beginnings. But what do you want to see? 
> 
> This one takes place between chapters 8 and 9 during Guzma's recovery after saving the reader. Right before the reading room. Aaaaand it's just. Pure fluff. :V I wanted to do something a little more, I dunno, serious? But this was all my brain kept coming back to. They won't all be this fluffy, but uhhhh yeah. I could NOT think of a title for this one shot either. Thus we have Big Bad Cookies haha.

"This is stupid." He tells you, crossing his arms as you lay out the ingredients in the kitchen. 

You begin opening cabinets looking for measuring cups. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Cursed gang leaders don't make cookies, right?"

Guzma leans against a counter. He's so tall he's practically sitting on it. "Didn't even before all of that." 

And you figure he probably hadn't. According to the stories you've heard, this mansion was also his childhood home and his parents were wealthy. They likely hired someone to do all the cooking, but you feel like maybe he's missed out. To never to have so much as made a batch of cookies? A little ridiculous and sad. Sure the cupboard that spits out whatever you wish is convenient, but could it really replace enjoying something that you made yourself? 

At least you'd finally convinced him to come down stairs with you. For as big as Shady House is, Guzma doesn't seem to see much of it himself. True, he was still recovering from some rather rough injuries, but he'd been well enough to leave his room for a couple days now, yet he'd spent most of that time still cooped up. You visit him often to keep him company - something he seems to be growing to like more and more - which is perhaps why he finally agreed to do this, even if he has been grumpy about it the whole way. 

You find all the required equipment you need, adding it to the ingredients that you managed to make the cupboard produce. "Well, you're gonna learn today, Big Bad Wolf." 

He rolls his eyes at you and turns away a bit, but not before you're able to catch his half-smile. You'd picked up on the fact that he likes it when you call him nicknames, but he doesn't seem to want you to know it. 

You decide to tease him further. "My, what big ears you have!"

He pushes himself off the counter, puts his hands on his hips, and bends over towards you, smirking. "All the better to hear you with, doll. You gonna get on with this, or what?"

Your heart gives a small jump at his sudden closeness. You swallow, then grin back at him, giving him a playful shove and saying, "Go preheat the oven. Think you can handle that or are your paws too big?"

He laughs, moving past you to the oven. "Few hours too early for paws." 

"It needs to be at 350."

You watch as he merely moves the dial to the appropriate number. 

On the gas oven.

He turns to you, looking entirely too proud of this tiny task that he didn't even accomplish. "See? No big deal."

"Are you serious?" 

"What?"

"It's a gas oven."

"A gas oven now set to 350."

You shake your head in amazement. "You really truly have never actually used this kitchen before, have you?"

"Told you that. Maybe you're the one who needs bigger ears." 

You sigh and stand next to him, pointing to the dial. "You see how this says 'pilot' here? You gotta turn it to that and hold it for a few seconds so it can ignite the gas." You do so and the oven emits clicking noises. "Then you can turn it to the right temperature." There's a tiny whoosh noise as you set the oven to 350. 

"How would anyone know that?" He looks a little exasperated. 

"Well, we didn't all grow up in a mansion," you say, bumping him with your shoulder. 

"Yeah, but didn't you have, ya know, parents or something to do this cooking shit?"

"Yes," you say slowly. "But they weren't exactly around much." You're not sure you're ready to tell him that they're no longer around at all. 

He scratches at the back of his neck, looking as if he regrets bringing up the topic of parents. "So, what now?" 

You pull a bowl towards yourself on the counter. "We mix together the dry ingredients: baking soda, flour, salt."

You measure out the salt and baking soda, adding the amounts to the bowl, explaining what you're doing as you go. 

All he says is, "Uh huh" to your every explanation. He brings his asymmetrical sunglasses down over his eyes, picks up a wooden spoon and starts drumming it on the counter, until you push the bowl over in front of him. He looks at you, clearly confused, though you can't see his eyes behind the glasses. 

"You can measure out the flour," you tell him, opening the bag and sliding that towards him as well. 

He grabs three incorrect measuring cups, one after another until you finally place the correct one in his hands, fully aware that you let yours linger a tad too long on his. "This one. We need two cups, so two of these." You release his hands. 

He picks up the bag of flour in one hand and jams the measuring cup in with another. You consider telling him it would be easier if he did this with the bag on the counter, but decide against it. He dumps one cup in the bowl, then two, then turns to you looking for approval. "Yeah?"

Before you can answer you notice the bag of flour slipping through his fingers. You only manage to get out "um" before it falls from his grip and hits the counter, its contents shooting up upon impact, causing a cloud of flour to puff up into his face. 

He stumbles backwards, sputtering and shaking his arms out. 

You can't help the peal of laughter that comes from you as you watch him struggle. "Come here, come here," you tell him, gently pulling on his upper arm so that he bends over towards you. You carefully remove his flour covered sunglasses to reveal a two perfectly clean spots around his eyes in exactly the shape of the lopsided lenses. You let out a fresh bout of laughter.

He looks at you a bit baffled for a second before his sarcastic grin is back on his face. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, princess." 

"How? How are you this inept?" you ask between giggles. 

He responds by scooping up a handful of flour from the counter and tossing it at you. It mostly just creates a powdery mess in the air, with some chunks of it splattering the Team Skull tank you're wearing. You look down at it then up at him. 

"So we're just gonna call it even right here, ri-" he's interrupted by the flour you've dug out of the bag and launched at his chest. He doesn't respond at first, just looks at you a moment longer, before snatching the bag off the counter, throwing another handful at you, and taking off around the kitchen. 

You place his glasses on your forehead and chase after him. "You can't take it all!" 

"So get your own! Cupboards right there. You know, the one we could've used to get cookies from the start."

You dash over to the cupboard and come away with your own bag. Now you're both armed and chasing each other about the kitchen, fistfuls of flour creating a mess on the both of you as well as the everything in the room. 

You carry on until Guzma slips on some of the flour that's collected on the tile and crashes to the ground. 

You set down your bag of flour and offer your hand to him. "You ok?"

He takes your hand, but doesn't move. You're concerned for a moment, but then he looks up at you with a wicked smile and pulls you down with him. The two of you sit on the floor laughing until the kitchen door swings open. 

Plumeria stops in her tracks, glancing around at the flour that's now all over the kitchen. Then her eyes come to rest on you and Guzma, both still sitting together covered in the white powder. She says nothing, but simply steps back out of the kitchen, letting the door close behind her. 

You clear your throat and stand up, dusting yourself off. As he rises, you take his sunglasses from your head and hand them back to him. "Here's, uh, here's your glasses."

"Thanks." He takes them from you and places them back atop his head. He turns back toward the forgotten bowl and cookie ingredients, rubbing at the back of his neck. "So we, uh, we gonna finish this?"

"Oh, yeah." So he was capable of letting loose and having fun. Even if it was only for a moment. Maybe there'd be an opportunity to do this again another time. Maybe get him outside? You wonder what Plumeria must have thought and hope she hasn't gotten the wrong idea. Though you have to admit that it was entirely possible you were starting to get ideas of your own. You shake it off and say, "Ok, now to mix together some of the other stuff in a separate bowl." 

You have Guzma mix together butter, sugar, and vanilla without issue, but having him crack an egg proves to be more than he can handle. 

You stare in amazement at the egg mess spread across the counter. He was now on try number ten. "Exactly how rich and spoiled were you?" 

"Hey, hey! I'm doing my best here, ok?" The egg he's currently holding cracks and crumbles in his hands. He shakes them out, adding to the debris already on the counter and reaches for another. 

"Look, as downright mesmerizing as it is to watch you mess up cracking an egg this badly, why don't you let me handle this." 

"No, no wait! I've almost got it." 

You cross your arms, smiling. "You didn't even want to do this in the first place." 

"Yeah, well," he's concentrating comically hard, trying to crack this egg open without a mess of shell going into the cup with it. At least you had the good sense to have him crack it into a cup instead of directly into the mixture. "Now it's become A Thing." 

"A thing?"

"A thing. That I am," he speaks haltingly and his hands are nearly trembling with the effort it's taking him to be careful enough in this task. "Going to. Fucking." Finally he manages to crack the egg open, depositing its contents in the cup sans shell. "Do." He whoops, throwing the shell on the floor in victory and holding the cup up towards you. "See?!"

It's one of the most hysterically pathetic things you've ever seen. "Yeah only took you a whole dozen eggs." 

He pours the cup into the mixture. "Eh, so there were some casualties."

"Humpty Dumpty ought to live in fear of you." 

"Damn right. Now what?"

You smile, amused that he actually seems sort of into this. "We mix both bowls together." You have him slowly add in the dry ingredients from the first bowl to the second as you stir, though his definition of slow seems vastly different from yours. 

The chocolate chips come next, and then finally, finally, your dough is ready to go on the baking sheet. You fill up half of it with uniform sized drops of dough, while Guzma's half contains dough balls of all sizes. 

While they bake, you both begin to clean up the horrendous mess that's been left in the kitchen. Thankfully, while he might not cook, he has had to clean up after himself before. He's far better at cleaning then he is at baking. You wonder what kind of life he's led up until this point to be so clueless when it comes to anything culinary. Sure he might have the cupboard under the curse, but before that? You try to think of polite ways to ask about his past later. For now, you chat and clean until the timer finally goes off. 

 

You take a bite into one of the cookies and grimace. Somewhere along the line, you two had messed something up. They taste horrible and entirely too salty. You set your cookie down and watch Guzma. He stops chewing and looks horrified at first, but when he notices you watching him, he smiles and nods, even though he can't seem to stop his nose from wrinkling in disgust. You laugh at the effort he's clearly making to spare your feelings. "They're pretty bad, huh?"

Relief spreads across his face. "Hey, you said it. Not me." 

You take the rest and dump them in the trash. No need for anyone to taste those. "Guess we got distracted. We did something wrong somewhere." 

"Well, now it's my turn to show you my way of making cookies." He closes the cupboard door and opens it again revealing a fresh plate of perfectly baked cookies. The curse sure had its perks on occasion. He picks up the plate and offers it to you. "Ta-fucking-dah. Simple as that."

You pick up one and bite into it. It is, of course, much better than the ones you'd made. "You know, someday you'll have to learn to do without the cabinet."

Guzma huffs. "That would require getting outta here first." 

You look away a moment feeling a little awkward. You always do when the subject of breaking the curse comes up. You hadn't thought that sentence out very well. You decide to be encouraging anyway. "Hey! Maybe it'll happen!" 

He moves for the door with the plate of cookies, holding it open for you. "Yeah, we'll see, doll, we'll see." As you pass by him he adds, "But thanks, you know, for uh, getting me out of my room. This was kinda fun." 

You take another cookie, smiling at him. "You're welcome, Big Bad Wolf."


	2. Liam and Ethan 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a chapter from Liam's perspective! This will probably not be the only one shot with Liam and Ethan, as I admit I have a great deal of fondness for my little grunt OC. Seriously I don't think I've ever been as attached to a character I've created as I am to Liam. 
> 
> OH OH AND HEY if you wanna see more of Liam (and also make me really happy) go check out my newest fic, Skull in the Family. It's a Guzma and Team Skull origin story that also takes place in the same world as Beauty and the Boss. It will literally make my day if that were to get some more love. 
> 
> Haha and I told myself not to start another long, multi chapter thing... but dang, I just can't help it! Skull in the Family was originally going to be included here, and divided into three long one shots, but when it became clear that the first part was going to well surpass 10K words, I figured maybe it was better to make it its own thing. 
> 
> Thank you for kudos and comments as always! They truly keep me going! 
> 
> Now time to give Ethan more dialogue and personality than he had in Beauty and the Boss, which was far too little. And also give Liam some well deserved angst, but, as you know, he gets his happy ending eventually.

Liam won't sleep in beds anymore. The other grunts might covet free ones and squabble over them to take their naps, but Liam has no part in that. He'd sleep anywhere but a bed: on a couch, leaning against a wall, even on a table in the dining hall a few times, but a bed? He might not ever sleep in one of those again. 

It's always the same dream and always only when he's decided to try sleeping on an actual mattress. He's on the ground outside the border they're cursed to stay behind. His vision is blurred with sweat, blood, and rain, but he can see a man walking further away. There's not even a glance back to see if Liam's alright. After everything, he's left him to die. Liam doesn't even want to think his name. 

There's darkness creeping in on the edges of his sight. His own bloodied hand comes into focus, stretched out on the ground beside him, and beyond that a discarded knife. Just outside of his focus are the bodies of the Araquanid he'd managed to fight off when they'd attacked the guy he'd rushed out to save. He squeezes his eyes closed, grimacing and writhing in pain as the curse leaves yet another laceration on him. In the dream he can't feel the pain, but he remembers it. Pain so intense it was hard to stay conscious. 

Maybe he would have fared better if this had happened at night. Then he'd have been a Lycanroc instead of just some guy with a knife. But it hadn't. No, instead the argument, the storming from the mansion, and the rush out beyond the border to save him had all occurred a few hours before sundown. Now that it's over, he can't get up. There's nothing left in him. He's so weak and there's so much blood around him - his blood. He'd fought both the curse and the pack of Araquanid that roam outside Po Town and lost. He was going to die here, having sacrificed himself for someone who'd just walked away.

He can see it happening still as he lies there. He'd collapsed as the remaining Araquanid fled. And the guy? He gives Liam a sideways glance as he lays on the ground - an expression caught between disgust and hesitation. It was the last time Liam would ever see his face. He turns from Liam and walks away. 

Liam can't even call out. His lungs seem to be failing him. He's too broken to do anything. It's getting harder to keep his eyes open, but he desperately tries. Not because he's afraid he'll never open them again, but because each time he does, all he can see replaying over and over is that last look and the turning away. It's like an awful movie burned behind his eyelids. 

He's about to just give in when he hears voices. They sound as if they're underwater; muffled and somehow both close and far off. Then there's someone pulling him up. Two people are lifting him into the air. The shock of this brings everything back into focus just for a second before he's completely out. 

It's Guzma and Plumeria. Both are already becoming cut up from going beyond the border to reach him. Guzma's gritting his teeth as a rivulet of blood slips from behind his sunglasses and down his forehead. Plumeria's breathing heavy, her eyes wide with fear and pain. They're hauling him back towards Po Town. Liam tries to mutter something to them, but nothing will leave his lips. Then it all goes dark. The dream and the memory end. 

 

Liam was resilient. He could get over many things, and he always had with little issue - even his relationships that had all ended in some kind of disaster. But this was different. This haunted him in a way nothing else had before. 

Sure, Liam had grown up with his fair share of trauma which had shaped him in various ways, but none of it had ever truly put a dent in his buoyancy before. Those around him knew him for his silliness and unwillingness to take damn near anything seriously. He enjoyed holding this position of team clown. But who would be that for him when he needed it? 

So he tries to forget and pretends that he has. Often this works, but then there will be something small that will remind Liam of him - a certain phrase or a particular smell - and it takes away any ability he has to pretend in that moment. He sours and even sometimes becomes angry, remembering all that happened. He sees, again, the look on his face as he turns and walks away. 

Time heals most things, and these memories do become easier to bear as the years go on. In the time up till then he knows he's leaned on Plumeria and Guzma more than he used to. But it's hard to explain everything to them. Though the three of them have been friends even long before the curse, he feels as if there's a layer to this they just can't understand. 

He swears off relationships. Mostly. There have been a couple trysts and one night stands with other grunts, but never anything serious. He can't picture himself being serious about that kind of thing again. Not after how the last one ended. He could be content with how things are now, and with never having to confront those feelings. 

But then there was Ethan. 

Liam had seen him around before of course. It's hard not to be cursed to remain in one place for years and years and not eventually see everyone. But there were so many grunts within Team Skull, and cliques and groups, so that while you might recognize someone, you might not necessarily interact with them. It reminded him of graduating classes in school. You could know the names of everyone within your grade level, and stay with them throughout all of your schooling, but some you just didn't talk to. This was what Ethan had been to him. 

He'd always thought he was attractive in a nerdy sort of way. Ethan is an Alolan native with jet black hair and rimless glasses he always seems to be pushing back up his nose. His eyes are a rich brown that convey a cool confidence, even if whatever subject he's going on about seems to be going over the head of whoever he's talking to. Ethan is smart, kind, and a bit too serious. And he was also mostly a stranger. 

The first time Liam and Ethan do more than just exchange a few pleasantries is by the pool outside the mansion. Back then they still used it occasionally, despite the fact that it never stops raining in Po Town. Liam had been yelling and carrying on around the outside of the pool when he accidentally knocks something over on the ground beside him. He looks down to see Ethan looking back up at him. There's spilled tubes of water in front of him, and Liam immediately bends down to right them, saying, "Hey, sorry, man." 

"That's alright," Ethan says. "Plenty of pool water. Though, there's not much left in this testing kit."

Liam scratches at his ear, confused. "Testing? What're you testing?" He sits, throwing his legs over the edge of the pool into the water as Ethan explains how he's testing the chemical levels. He doesn't remember much of the conversation and some of it is beyond him, but he sure liked listening to Ethan explain things. Liam was not dumb, though he knows he comes off that way to some people. He'd even gone to school for architecture for a while, but eventually he'd dropped out. Liam could understand many things, but he couldn't always understand Ethan. He couldn't tell if this was because the concepts really weren't within his grasp or if it's because he found the way Ethan talked to be mesmerizing. 

But that was back when he was still capable of talking to Ethan without tripping over his words. Since their conversation by the pool, the two of them had started to become friends. They'd occasionally eat together, or stop to catch up when they spotted one another in the hallways. It was a great little friendship between grunts. 

Until Liam realized he was developing genuine feelings for Ethan. Anxiety robbed him of his ability to continue the friendship. He started avoiding Ethan when he could, and when he couldn't, he was a nervous wreck. He would stutter and sweat, face reddening and palms growing clammy. His heart would race and his mind would swirl until he managed to get away from the object of his affections. 

But this wasn't what it seemed. He knew others just took it as him being nervous in front of his crush - Plumeria had once even teasingly called it cute - but this was not that. Liam was not afraid of rejection from Ethan; he was afraid of reciprocation and the inevitable disaster it will bring. Nothing, nothing has ever worked out for him before. Why would Ethan be different? What if it ended as bad as his last relationship? He can't bare to confront that thought. Especially not with Ethan. 

So he keeps his distance, daydreaming and dreading what could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oi. Ok, so I had intended for this to be longer and have more of a real plot, but I've been sitting with this amount written for a literal month now. Unfortunately I got hit with a pretty bad case of writer's block and lack of motivation. While that's slowly starting to change, I still haven't been able to finish this. I figured I'd go ahead and put up what I have with the promise that there's more to Liam and Ethan's story still to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know if this is something you'd like to see continued and what you're most interested in seeing next. 
> 
> I plan on working on this, and eventually possibly a second collection of Guzma/Reader one shots featuring a bunch of AU tropes, like the coffee shop one I hinted at.


End file.
